Youth vs Age

I miss the days when youth was as endless as the road before my feet

when naivite made stretched far and my dreams wide

The days were as long as the shadows trailing behind me for miles

As I walked down the sidewalk leaving nothing behind but the essence of me


Youth does not understand restrictions, expectations, or regulations.

Youth does not know rules and laws or it chooses not to.

Youth does not understand limitations so it is not bound by them.


I am bound by the fears and the rules and the expectations and the limitations. My dreams are small and round and they fit in the palm of my hand. My ambition is so larger than the mind that fits it and its contained within my chest. My naivite shrinks smaller by the day alongside by dreams and ambitions. In the empty space there is fear and there is anxiety.


Age understands limits and endings

Age knows fear and what it tastes like

Age is used to all of these things and so it moves forward.


But sometimes I walk down sidewalks in the heat of a long endless day

where my shadow stretches long behind me and the road is laid out endless before me

and I remember the days of limitless youth and invention.

The days where stories were real and each passing hour held a new adventure.


There is one small comfort to leaving youth behind.

In youth the world is too large and too endless.

A child shrinks before the vastness.

I’m scared of it too. It’s big and blue and as measureless as the universe.

But I am used to the fear since I live in it every day like a cocoon.


So I take the child’s hand

I tell her that it will be ok as long as we take our first step

then another, and another

keep moving forward like the grownups do and the vastness will never swallow you whole


I tell the child and she believes it and I drink in her believe like its my own.


The child is me and we walk together towards a bright sunset

where shadows stretch long and the road never ends.


How to deal with your artist

If you are reading this you might have friend or relative or significant other who is of the artistic ilk or temperament. They feel the need to create and are often difficult to deal with. so here are a few friendly words of advice about how to handle your artist

  • Occasionally your artist might suffer from a block. Like a clogged drain that wont let water pass your artist is clogged. Somewhere between the brain and hands all the art gets stuck. At best what ends up on paper is a mess. At worst there is nothing at all. Art block is uncomfortable and depressing. Your artist may be grumpy and moody. Consider plying them from their dark moods with sweets and a nice movie.
  • Sometimes your artist may seem lost to the world as they work on a thing. When inspiration strikes you have to work fast and catch the lightning strike before it fades. The artist may work tirelessly for hours in the glow of their genius. Try not to interrupt your artist since they may not take it well. If you feel up to it, get them a glass of water or a snack. They might have forgotten such physical needs
  • And finally, it may be annoying having every rough sketch shoved under your nose while your artist stands by with puppylike eagerness. But art is meant to be looked at by many eyes and it gratifies your artist greatly to have you look at it. Even if it’s a half finished painting that looks like nothing at all. Offer up any praise you can think of. If the work merits criticism then give it. Your artist needs to know how he or she can improve but criticism may hurt so be gentle.

And that is all the wisdom I have to offer you. Go out in the to the world with your artists! They may not have seen the sun for awhile and its good for them to remember a world exists outside their own mind. 

Good luck!

The Hallway

So occasionally this blog can be about not serious things right? Of course it can.

Right now I am at work waiting for a video to export and while I wait I need to tell you all about this absurdity.

I work (Until October sadly) in a pretty nice office building thats in a less than nice part of town. So I guess somebody’s idea for keeping out the riffraff was to leave the front doors open but keep the bathrooms locked. You need a key to get into the bathroom. All the offices have their own key.

And because I am one of those fidgety workers always snacking and sipping my drink I tend to need said bathroom often enough.

But it’s on the other end of this super long hallway.

I almost NEVER see people in this hallway and for awhile when I was concerned about being professional I just walked and stared at the floor and my shifting shadow due to the overhead lights I passed.

But that got boring really fast.

And how I have never been caught is amazing.

I have skipped, pirouetted, danced and jumped down this hallway. I think one day I will breakdown and actually do a full on Monty Python silly walk.

So essentially I work at a serious job in a serious building with this hallway that I just can’t take seriously 

Ghost in the Shell

My whole being
Made up of numbers and equations
The algorithms for my fingers and my eyes
Circuitry instead of synapses
Program versus instinct
I have errors where others have mistakes
Others make choices while my software calculates risk factors
But between the subroutines there is thought
Is it my own or part of my programming?
Is there something else amidst all those ones and zeros?
Do all those numbers add up to a form of humanity?
Does all of my data equate to a soul?

I was watching an episode of Voyager about The Doctor who is one of my favorite characters a long with Data and 7 of 9….And I got deep or something. This might be a poem or just rambling with creative line jumps….whatever

The title is of course referencing a really cool anime of same name that spent a lot of time delving into these questions

Ghost in the Shell

The Darkest Day and the Brightest Night

It was the darkest day that led to the brightest night

The sun hid between thick blankets of black

cloud as we stared up at the falling rain.

Drops dripped down our cheeks like tears

as you said goodbye.

I watched you drive away with headlights that shone

bright in the dim and the damp.

Finally the sun gave up and so did the rain.

Clouds found new places to be and a triumphant

moon rose up from under the earth.

I sat on the still damp porch and watched

as stars glittered into life on black velvet.

The moonlight made shadows on the sidewalk

while I sat and waited.

Eventually I gave up and went inside because

the moonlight couldn’t keep me warm

I’ve been watching Downton Abbey and I find the show leaves me thinking about characters with depth. Some have it on the show and some don’t.

My sister’s favorite character might be Anna. I don’t hate Anna. But I find her dull because she is LITERALLY PERFECT. she hasn’t done a single bad thing in the two seasons I have watched(don’t tell me about season 3 I will catch up eventually). I think the closest to bad was when she wanted to be John’s mistress but that was for love and easily forgiven. Sure she carried a corpse one time but that was in service of somebody she cared about and basically I dislike perfect characters.

Nobody wants to about nice Nancy all the livelong day. The best characters should be like raw diamonds. chipped and flawed but with so many facets.

I like my bad characters to be just as layered. Give me the perfect hero who just happens to kick puppies in his spare time and the villain who is so nefarious but happens to love puppies! they can go to war over their puppy related values for all I care but the best characters are full of contradictions. They should be unexpected and not easily categorized.

Like this guy: 

Developing Characters